


Moving

by edibleflowers



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-14 10:54:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's all fun and games until Joey asks Chris to move in with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving

**Author's Note:**

> Velma may remember this one from May, and she encouraged its completion. It's hers for this reason. The beginning takes place during the _Celebrity_ tour.

"Move in with me," Joey says. It's such a sudden switch in everything -- topic, mood -- that Chris twists around to shoot a puzzled glance at him.

"Joe?" he asks. They've just been sitting there in the hotel room, watching cartoons and critiquing the new late-night lineup on Cartoon Network. It's Chris' favorite post-sex activity, because Joey leans back against the headboard and Chris rests between his thighs, nestled in the cradling warmth of Joey's arms propped up on bent knees, Joey surrounding him on all sides. Usually they talk for a while about nothing in particular, then they fuck again and go to sleep.

"Nothing," Joey says, and kisses Chris' ear. "What was that you were saying--"

"No, not 'nothing', don't give me that." Chris turns around to give Joey the full effect of his glare. Joey sighs, stares at Chris' shoulder.

"I just. I was having this fantasy of falling asleep with you every night and waking up with you every morning. And. It's-- it's stupid. I don't even know why I said it."

Joey's voice is thin. Chris knows why Joey regrets his words: he promised he'd never ask more than Chris was willing to give. And there's also the small problem that Chris is sleeping with -- is in love with -- Lance and JC.

He's in love with Joey, too, but he thinks sometimes Joey doesn't believe it. Joey still touches him sometimes with a reverential air, a sense of wonder and disbelief as if this couldn't really be happening outside the realm of his imagination. Chris knows he isn't like that with Justin or JC. He thinks sometimes that Joey never caught on to the fact that it's the same way for Chris.

"I love you, Fatone, you idiot," Chris says, and catches Joey in a fierce hug. Surprised, Joey puts his arms around Chris, holding him tight. Chris' voice is a harsh whisper in his ear: "All you have to do is ask."

Joey pulls back, his dark eyes searching Chris'. "I want you," he says after a moment, his voice thick with emotion, and puts a finger on Chris' lips before he can respond. "Only you for me. And only me for you. I love you."

For once, Chris is speechless. When Joey removes his finger and replaces it with his mouth, Chris responds with an almost frantic need. "Love you, love you," he hears himself mumbling into the kiss, and later, when Joey is slowly and surely fucking his brains out, he knows he's glowing and doesn't even care.

Afterwards, the television plays quietly in the background, its flickering screen the only source of light in the room. Chris tugs Joey on top of him, traces his silhouetted face with trembling fingers, and murmurs, "Only you for me, Joe."

Joey's beatific smile nearly makes Chris' heart burst.

* * *

Of course, Lance doesn't take it well.

"What? No," he protests, before Chris is even done talking.

"Lance, I'm sorry, man," Chris says, and he truly is, he feels fucking awful that he had to do this to him. It was all supposed to be for fun when they started sleeping together. He doesn't remember when it got so deep and involved and complicated. When they fell in love.

"You. I don't. I love you, Chris," Lance says. There's a desperate edge to him that Chris has never seen before. "Please."

"I love you, too, Lance." Lance flinches, head turning like he's been slapped. Chris winces. "I do. It's not-- I'm just. I love Joe so much."

"What if I'd asked first? Would you have moved in with me? Or--" Lance inhales, a sharp sobbing breath. "You love him more. Doesn't matter what I say, does it? Fuck the both of you," he spits suddenly. "I hope you're happy together." And he storms out of the quiet room, slamming the door.

Joey finds him there, and he crawls into Joey's arms and doesn't move until they have to get ready for the show.

* * *

JC glares at Joey before the show, during costume changes, afterwards, pretty much anytime they're not in direct line of sight of the audience. He doesn't say anything, which only makes Joey feel worse. They go back to the hotel in separate buses, Joey and Chris in one, the others in another. Chris mutters that they might want to keep this arrangement for a couple of days. Joey solemnly agrees.

* * *

Justin knocks on Joey's door later that evening. Fearing the worst, Joey lets him in. Justin moves past him, sits down on the bed, and looks up at Joey. His face is drawn. He looks tired.

"JC told me," he says. Joey nods, thinking wearily of how JC must have put it, and watches Justin and waits for the storm to hit. Justin's hands are clasped between his knees.

"And?" Joey prompts, when Justin remains silent.

Justin looks down. "I'm. I'm upset, but I guess I can't say I didn't see it coming."

Exhaling, Joey crosses the room, sits down next to Justin and reaches for his hand. Their fingers thread together. Joey squeezes gently. "It's not like -- like I don't love you, J."

"I know." Justin puts his arms around Joey, gently squeezes. "I'll miss you, Joe."

Joey turns his head and meets Justin's lips. The kiss is short; Justin pulls back after barely a moment, his mouth warm on Joey's forehead, and then he gets up, his fingers trailing out of Joey's grasp. "I love you," Justin whispers, and then he's gone.

* * *

Justin works hard to repair relations between JC and Joey, for which Chris is grateful, even though it doesn't work. Fortunately, the tour is soon over, and the next thing Chris knows, he's directing movers around, packing things up and grinning at Joey over beers later, both of them sweaty and tired in a house full of boxes.

And then they're unpacking again. Chris swears when he finds a snow globe from Germany broken -- a gift from Lance to commemorate a birthday when Chris was particularly homesick. Joey says nothing, but six weeks later, a crate arrives from Germany with a replica of the globe tucked in swathes of bubble wrap, and Joey looks the other way when Chris, wet-faced, puts it on the mantel.

One day, JC knocks on the door. Chris answers it warily. "I, um," JC says awkwardly, and holds up a large flat rectangle of a package, wrapped in brown paper. "This is. It's a housewarming present for you. Both of you."

"C," Chris mumbles, and doesn't know what else to say. "Come in, man. Joey'll want to."

JC shakes his head slowly, an eminently sad look on his face, but not the angry or melancholy sadness that was in his eyes before. He holds up the package until Chris has no choice but to take it, and then he steps back, running a hand through unkempt curls. "Tell him, tell him I said congratulations. And, I mean, you, too. Congratulations."

"Thank you," Chris says, fingering the edge of the package. JC nods tightly and then steps back down the walk. Chris has closed the door and is leaning against it when Joey comes down the stairs, dusting his hands off.

"Chris?" he says, when Chris doesn't move. "Was someone here?"

"Yeah." Chris pushes himself upright and holds up the package. "C. He had a. Housewarming gift."

Joey's eyebrows go up, but he comes over, accepting the package from Chris and tearing the paper off of it. It's one of JC's typically abstract paintings, splashes of bright cheery color melding into a muted, gentle whole. Joey makes a confused face, but Chris smiles a little, recognizing the peace offering, and he takes it back from Joey.

"I'm gonna get it framed," he says. "The bedroom, you think?"

"Yeah."

* * *

Most of the time, Joey tries not to let it bother him, the fact that Lance has stopped speaking to him. It's made somewhat easier, of course, by him being in Russia, but Lance calls JC and Justin, emails them, all the time, keeping them posted on what's going on with his training, the funding, all the aspects of the upcoming mission. Joey swallows the icy absence of his friend and pretends it doesn't matter.

Only once does he tell Chris about it. They're sitting out on the back deck, watching the sun set, the day after he's auditioned for _RENT_ , and they're waiting to get the call back about it. Chris sits down on his lap, and Joey leans his forehead between Chris's shoulderblades and lets the tears leak out in between his words. Then the phone rings and his mood shatters into happiness.

Then there's relocating to New York, which isn't as much of an ordeal as it might be because Chris goes with him, refusing to be anywhere else, so Joey isn't completely homesick. And JC and Justin visit on a regular basis -- Justin is there for a whole week, crashing in the spare room between appearances, and he keeps them updated on what's going on with Lance, through funding issues and a dismissal from training and Lance apparently adapting to a social life in Moscow.

And then there's a knock on the door one day and Joey, still dazed with sleep, opens it and sees Lance's face swimming before his eyes. "Hey," he says, blinking and sure he's still asleep.

"Hey," Lance says, his voice low, eyes downcast. "Can I come in?"

Chris pauses where he's throwing breakfast together in the kitchen, and when Lance sees him in there he freezes, catching all three of them in a cold tableau. Joey finally takes Lance's arm and pulls him the rest of the way into the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

"I'm sorry I didn't call first," Lance says.

"It's fine." Joey feels awkward, but he nods to Chris, and Chris goes back to what he's doing as Joey leads Lance to the couch. "What are, what are you doing in New York?"

"I didn't have anything to do in Russia, and I was sick of seeing Freddy's fucking face," and the way Lance spits that out makes Joey realize abruptly that there was a lot going on there that Justin never mentioned. "So I decided to come back here until they make up their minds. I've got, I mean, I know I'm not going this trip--" Lance stops suddenly, swallowing hard. His fingers are picking at cuticles. "So they're gonna let me know if I'll be able to bid on the next one."

"Lance," Joey breathes. "God, I'm so fuckin' sorry."

He means it for the trip, but Lance looks at him, eyes washed out, circles under his eyes, and Joey realizes he's apologizing for everything. "I know," Lance whispers. "I know."

Joey reaches a hand and sets a hand lightly on one of Lance's forearms. Lance doesn't flinch away from him, and that feels like the greatest victory yet. "I still hate you," Lance mumbles. "I can't. I can't be happy for you yet. Maybe not ever."

"I wouldn't ask you to be," Joey says. "I still feel like shit."

"Don't," and Lance gives him a wild-eyed look, almost frantic. "Don't. You're, you're happy with him? Together?"

Joey nods. The last few months have been some of the most incredible of his life.

"Then don't feel like shit for me. I'll live, OK? I'll get over it. I'm being a drama queen and I was so mad and I was glad I was over there so I wasn't tempted to come wring your neck, and I'll get used to it. I can't, I can't promise I'll ever really fall out of love with him or something, but." Lance seems to run out of steam, but he covers Joey's hand with his own, and Joey nods again. Doesn't move to embrace him -- that would be overkill, pushing the moment too far -- but it's a good moment. He's finally daring to hope that they'll be friends again. And when Chris comes in and says, quietly, that the eggs are ready, Lance turns and gives him a watery smile, and Joey feels impossibly light, like he might fly away if not for Lance's hand on his.


End file.
